


Blindfolded

by Thia (Jennaria)



Category: Initial D
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Oral Sex, Sexual Fantasy, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-09 11:06:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennaria/pseuds/Thia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Takumi goes from zero to 'oh hell yes', Ryousuke loses control of his somewhat kinky 'friends with benefits' arrangements, and Keisuke discovers, much to his surprise, that maybe he can have his cake and eat it too (only for 'cake' substitute 'racing rivals').</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Takumi takes the first curve

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty much pure PWP. A lot of things work out a lot more smoothly than they would in real life, including but not limited to getting over internalized homophobia, incest, and threesomes. I'll try to remember to tag possible triggers anyway as they occur: if I miss one, please tell me and I'll add it.

The first time, it was an accident in pretty much every way.

Takumi had finally agreed to join the new racing team, and as a result he spent most of his free evenings over on Akagi, learning its twists and turns as Ryousuke (and Matsumoto, who'd introduced himself as Takumi's personal mechanic) learned the strengths and weaknesses of Takumi’s new engine. Keisuke joined them most nights, though Takumi couldn’t imagine that Ryousuke didn't already know everything about the FD and what it could do.

Then came one particular night. There was a heavy mist, not quite rain, making the roads especially slick. Takumi had come back from a run to find Ryousuke standing by the FD, listening to Keisuke, who had knelt down by one tire and was talking to his brother with animated gestures that Takumi, concentrating on parking his own car, couldn't interpret. 

Once safely parked, though, he looked back at the brothers. Ryousuke had said something earlier to Keisuke about his tires, and how they would react with this amount of rain. Was that what they were talking about? What would it be like, to know your car - to know someone *else's* car - that well?

That was all he was thinking about. But he was still thinking about it hard enough that the tap on his window startled him.

Fumihiro leaned in his window and murmured, “You’re staring.”

It wasn't an accusation, but Takumi still felt his face heat. “I’m sorry,” he said automatically.

Fumihiro chuckled. “You don’t need to apologize. We’ve all done it. It’s difficult not to, even now.”

“…um?” That didn't really sound like Fumihiro is talking about knowing their cars, or studying their rivals, or any of the things that Takumi would have expected him to be talking about.

“There are a lot of racing clubs – even on Akagi, the Red Suns aren’t the only ones.” Fumihiro dropped his voice, although with him leaned in like this, nobody could overhear them anyway. “We follow Ryousuke-san because he’s very good at racing, of course, but it’s always more than that.” He chuckled again, short and rueful. “Most of the new ones fall a little in love with him. It’s expected.”

“Ah,” Takumi said.

“It’s fine,” Fumihiro said. “Just don’t be too obvious about it.” And he withdrew from the window to go talk to the mechanic who'd been under the hood this entire time.

Despite himself, Takumi’s eyes went back to Ryousuke and Keisuke. Keisuke had risen to his feet, and he was listening to Ryousuke, head tilted slightly to one side, eyes intent on his brother. It was nothing Takumi hadn’t seen before.

But somehow, Fumihiro's warning - it was as if Fumihiro saying that, Fumihiro talking about it as if it was okay that Takumi could look at Keisuke and Ryousuke like that, somehow that had unlocked a part of him that he hadn’t even realized was locked away. When he looked over at Keisuke and Ryousuke, he didn't just see rain, or Ryousuke's knowledge, or Keisuke's familiarity with his car. He saw the way Keisuke’s shirt clung to him in the damp, and the gestures of Ryousuke’s long fingers, and the distant rich murmur of their voices. 

Takumi felt himself shiver. He forced his eyes away, and didn't let himself think about Keisuke and Ryousuke. His face was even more flushed, and he needed to calm down before his next run.

*

The second time _was_ deliberate.

After that first night, Takumi didn't panic. He didn't run away from Project D, or from Ryousuke or Keisuke. He didn't exactly think about that night, either, which was maybe why he didn't panic or run away, but maybe not. It felt more like there was something there, underneath, something that had happened and was just waiting for him to notice. Takumi didn't want to notice yet, so he concentrated on delivering tofu, delivering furniture, and practices on Akagi.

Then one night there wasn't practice. Takumi came home from work, ate a quiet supper with his father, then retreated to his room.

He stripped, and showered. He jerked off in the shower. It didn't have anything to do with the thing he wasn't thinking about: it was just his hand on his cock, no teasing or experimenting, same as he'd always jerked off.

He rinsed off, got out of the shower, and toweled himself off before going back to his room. There, it was safe to let his mind wander. Mogi's last few texts had been hinting that maybe they should get back together, one last fling when she came home for Golden Week. Takumi had seen Itsuki last week, and Itsuki had hinted even more broadly that he knew some girls who’d love to go on a double date (although Takumi suspected he was lying). 

Ryousuke and Keisuke…hadn’t been hinting at all. But when Takumi flopped down on his bed and let his mind wander, it didn't go to Natsuki, or to the maybe-girls that Itsuki had described. It went to the two brothers, light and dark, standing there with their clothing wet and clinging. What if _they_ had been the ones to notice him staring? What if they hadn't minded? What if...

Takumi turned over, biting his lip. He was getting hard.

What would it be like, to be with them? It wouldn’t be like with a woman – not that Takumi really knew what that’s like either, but at least with women, he'd _heard_ things. What did _men_ do? 

Hands on each other’s cocks, like kids exploring? Takumi imagined it, being pushed up against the 86 as a hand rubbed his cock through his slacks, and shivered despite himself. Neither Keisuke nor Ryousuke would be tentative or hesitant. They'd know what they were doing. They never hesitated, not even on an unknown course.

Mouths, maybe. He'd heard about that kind of thing with women. Takumi tried to imagine it, but in his head, it wasn't dirty or shameful like locker-room talk. In his head, someone faceless - dyed blond hair, intense blue eyes, a half-smile like _I dare you_ \- no, dammit, _faceless_ \- knelt down in front of him, but he wasn't blushing or unsure. In Takumi's imagination, the man in front of him didn't hesitate or blush. He sucked Takumi's cock into his mouth, and smiled when Takumi groaned. 

But if he had someone like that, it wouldn't be - he wouldn't just suck Takumi off. He'd want Takumi on his knees, too. Takumi rolled over onto his back again, cautiously raised his hand to his lips, and sucked two fingers in, closing his eyes to imagine it better. It felt like...like two fingers, actually, nothing else. For a moment, he thought about giving up, stopping this whole thing before he did anything really stupid. 

Then his tongue accidentally brushed against his fingers like a tease, and the fantasy surged up again, stronger than before. He couldn't force his imaginary lover to be faceless this time, not when he could almost see Keisuke’s startled face, or Ryousuke’s eyes narrowed as he murmured instruction on what he wants.

Imagining sucking a guy off wasn't supposed to be arousing, Takumi was pretty sure. The erection bobbing against his belly said he was wrong.

Hands, mouths - there was still one other thing. One more thing that Takumi’s heard of, from locker room taunts and that one hentai Itsuki rented.

He pulled his fingers out of his mouth, then dragged them down his body, over his stomach, past his cock. For a second he hesitated, illogically terrified that if he did this, it would somehow change everything. Then he took a deep breath, and slid his hand down to rub his cool, damp fingers over his ass.

Nothing changed. He didn't even feel anything, really. Just the strain of holding himself weird so he could reach down there. Takumi relaxed, and the tip of one finger slid inside, just a little.

It should still be nothing. So what if it was warm, so what if the skin was softer than he expected. So what if he couldn't stop himself from imagining Ryousuke leaning over him, pushing in oh-so-slowly. It was just a finger.

Takumi pulled his hand away, and grabbed blindly for the lotion he kept by his bed.

One finger. It was sloppy and awkward and he was getting a crick in his neck from the position he was holding himself in, but that one finger sliding inside made it worth it. Despite the fantasy still playing somewhere in his head, it wasn't about Ryousuke anymore, or Keisuke either. Something _had_ changed. He hadn't expected this. It felt _good_ , good enough that Takumi wasn't sure he cared any more that it shouldn’t feel like this.

A second finger. It burned now, as he gently moved his hand in and out, but it was the kind of burn that woke him up, not the kind that made him flinch. He pushed up into his own touch, his erection rubbing against his arm as he fucked himself with his fingers.

He reached down with his other hand, grabbed his cock, and came all over his fingers and arm. The clench of his ass on his fingers seemed to stretch out the orgasm forever.

Takumi pulled his hand free, and lay there for what felt like a long time. The idea of Ryousuke and Keisuke hadn't gone away, but he wasn't going to duck away from it any more. Even if he never did anything about it, at least he didn't feel terrified any more.


	2. Keisuke Makes Arrangements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Keisuke is in control of everything, really he is, okay maybe he isn't damn you Fujiwara.

Project.D officially started late April, and by 'official' Keisuke meant that was when Fumihiro headed out to talk to people and set up challenges. Unofficially, well, Fujiwara had finally said yes in March, and he'd spent damn near every night since then with Keisuke and Ryousuke and the other guys who'd shifted from the Red Suns to the Project. After a month straight, Keisuke had stopped noticing where Fujiwara was, at least in the same way as before. He was part of the team, was all. He wasn't _invisible_ , but at least during practice, Keisuke only paid attention to where he was if they were on a run.

Stupid. That’s probably why it happened.

Keisuke had just finished another run up Akagi, and gotten out of the FD so Tomiguchi could check one of his subtle tweaks. After a second, Tomiguchi leaned back and gave Keisuke one of those mechanic looks. "Go get coffee, Keisuke-san."

"I'm fine," Keisuke protested.

"You're in the way," Aoki said from off behind him. Keisuke turned to protest, and Aoki shook his head. "He came up with another idea and wants to try it, but it'll take a little while - nothing for you to worry about, Keisuke-san. Here, c'mon, I'll get coffee with you."

Keisuke grumbled, because dammit, the FD was his car and he wanted to _know_. He'd done more than half the tuning on her himself. But if Tomiguchi had actually taken classes, and he'd managed to lose _aniki_ once when he was explaining what he wanted to do, so Keisuke followed Aoki off to the vending machines. 

He didn't think anything about Aoki being the one who went with him. Then Aoki handed him his can of coffee, and instead of just popping his own can and leaning back, Aoki folded his hands around his can and looked down at it. "Keisuke-san, there was...something else."

"Something wrong?"

"Not with the FD!" To Aoki's credit, he sounded shocked, like he hadn't even thought Keisuke might take it that way. Instead, he set down his coffee, turned and faced Keisuke, hands folded behind his back like this was some kind of school report. “I can’t - I can't do this any more. With Ryousuke-sama.” 

The gears in Keisuke's brain ground. He hadn't even - he hadn't thought about - _shit_. He'd been all focused on Project D. Had it been too long since Aoki and Ryousuke had been together? Aniki would've _said_ something, wouldn't he? Then again, _he'd_ been entirely focused on the team, too.

Aoki had paused, as if he wasn't sure if Keisuke was going to say something. When Keisuke stayed silent, Aoki sighed, and turned back around to pick up his coffee again. “I’m very sorry," he said quietly. "I'll leave the Project, if --"

"Don't be a fucking idiot," Keisuke said sharply, before he could finish that sentence. "Aniki can find someone else for --" He waved his hand, because after a year and a half, he still hadn't found a way to _say_ what was going on. Aoki nodded once, so Keisuke went on: "We can't find another mechanic as good as you. You're staying."

Aoki's shoulders relaxed, just that little bit that Keisuke had learned to look for. He bowed to Keisuke again. "Thank you very much, Keisuke-san. I'm very sorry."

"Yeah, yeah," Keisuke said, and waved him off. 

It was only after he was gone that Keisuke gave in to the impulse to kick the vending machine. What the fuck was he supposed to do now? It wasn't like aniki was in love with the guy - Keisuke knew damn well that it was just sex. But Aoki had lasted longer than aniki's usual partners. Most of them broke and gave up after one time, maybe two. Aoki had stuck around three months. Now Keisuke had to figure out someone else, someone who wouldn't mind aniki being distracted as hell by Project.D, someone who wouldn't mind all the rest of it either.

_Shit_. Maybe aniki would be so distracted by Project.D that he wouldn't get distracted by his dick. Except it wasn't just _his_ distraction that had started this whole arrangement in the first place.

“Um. Keisuke-san?”

Oh, no. Oh _no_. He knew that voice, and of all the people to have seen something - Keisuke swore again, out loud this time, then tried for something like a polite tone of voice. “Fujiwara.”

Fujiwara stepped forward. He'd been just barely in the shadows of the street-lights. Keisuke had gotten too used to him: there was no other way he'd have just overlooked someone was there. “I’m sorry,” Fujiwara said.

Keisuke snorted a laugh. What the hell was Fujiwara being sorry for? “It’s not your fault my brother’s...boyfriend decided to break up with him.” He hesitated only a second, before picking the simplest term. It wasn't right, but there wasn't any way to be accurate without also being a lot more crude than he wanted to be, not with Fujiwara.

Fujiwara missed the hesitation, but he didn't take the hint and leave either. “It isn’t yours either,” he said, frowning at Keisuke. The words came out slow and hesitant, but they still came out. “Why was he telling _you_?”

For a moment, Keisuke wanted to yell at him that it was none of his business. That wasn't entirely true, though. Half the Red Suns knew about Ryousuke and Keisuke's arrangement, and the other half had guessed. Better just tell him now, and not wait for him to stumble across something a lot worse than just a polite break-up. So Keisuke straightened up, took a deep breath, let it out, and turned to face Fujiwara straight on.. “If I answer you, do you swear you’ll never tell anyone else?”

“Yes," Fujiwara said, without hesitating.

Keisuke studied him for a moment. Fujiwara didn't freak out about anything, he reminded himself. He wouldn't leave the team over this. "Aniki doesn’t choose his lovers," he said, not bothering to censor himself this time. "I do.”

“…Keisuke-san?”

“Everyone watches aniki,” Keisuke said. “They don’t worry about me, not yet.” Not their parents, not the other teams, not the occasional reporter who heard about the White Comet and never bothered to ask about the younger half of the Rotary Brothers. Keisuke wasn't anonymous, but aniki's shadow covered a lot of things. “It’s safer if I'm the one talking to people. There's less risk”

Fujiwara tilted his head. “But a lot of people want Ryousuke-san for a lover,” he said, slowly, as if trying to work out the things that Keisuke hadn't said.

“They can’t all have him,” Keisuke said. _Mine!_. Except he wasn't, and _couldn't_ be, and Keisuke had a lot of practice in pulling back from _that_ gutter. He forced his hands to unclench from around the can of coffee, and added, as calmly as he could, “Most of his drive goes into racing – you’ve seen him. His lover gets what’s left over.”

“But he still wants a lover?”

“Oh, yes.” Aniki had enough drive for any ten people. Keisuke should know. It didn't matter, though: Fujiwara was finally _reacting_ , blinking at Keisuke like he was startled or scared, and Keisuke couldn't help his mouth twisting into a grin, raising his eyebrows at Fujiwara. “You don’t need to worry. I wouldn’t ask you.”

He expected Fujiwara to blush, or at least look away. Instead, he met Keisuke's eyes and said, “What if I offered?”

For a second, Keisuke felt like he'd lost control of a drift. He'd thought he knew where this was going, what was going to happen. How the fuck did Fujiwara keep surprising him? "Fujiwara -" He stopped, and swallowed. First rule: move into the skid to control it. "Fujiwara, do you know what you’re offering?”

“To be Ryousuke-san’s lover.”

“To be _fucked_ ,” Keisuke said, taking a step closer. Fujiwara didn't flinch, just kept watching him intently. “He won’t be taking you out on walks around the lake, or out to a nice dinner. It’s going to a love hotel, or wherever one of us tells you to meet, and putting on a _blindfold_ , and allowing aniki to fuck his cock into your ass until you’re both -”

He stopped short, because there was pushing Fujiwara to try to get a reaction, and then there was _how the fuck he would know that_. It didn't matter. He'd said enough.

Instead, Fujiwara waited a moment, as if not sure whether Keisuke was done, then he said politely, “The blindfold does sound a little odd.” 

“You…” Keisuke shook his head, unable to stop a laugh from escaping. Why had he bothered trying to freak out _Fujiwara_? Fujiwara didn't freak out: he knew that. “As expected from you,” he admitted, and wasn't surprised when all that got him was a sober nod.. “Do you really think you could keep aniki fucking you once a month separate from this?”

Fujiwara smiled back. “I’ll try.” He had the same steady, fierce look in his eyes as when he was accepting a challenge.

*

“Aniki, Aoki Masaru sends his regrets.”

Ryousuke didn't look away from his computer. Only a slight hesitation in his typing gave away that he remembered who Aoki Masaru was, besides a mechanic with the team. “I see.” 

Usually when this happened, Keisuke left as soon as he’d passed on the news. It was awkward enough, without him lingering like he was hoping for something he knew he couldn't have. This time, he stayed, leaning against the doorframe. "Don't worry. I've already got a new one for you."

That got Ryousuke to look up, eyebrows up. "A 'new one'? You put it very politely."

Keisuke rolled his eyes. Seriously? Aniki was objecting to what word Keisuke used? "Do you want me to say a new lover? There's no way to say it politely that isn't false." As it was, 'lover' implied it wasn't just sex - but 'fuck-buddy' was both kinda rude and only sorta the truth. The one time he'd said 'sex toy', which was probably the most truthful, he'd gotten a lecture. "Bad enough that I sound like a pimp," Keisuke added, mostly under his breath..

Not quietly enough, though. "You don't have to do this, Keisuke," Ryousuke said. Again.

"No.” Keisuke met Ryousuke’s gaze steadily. “Better like this than --" Better than both of them pretending Keisuke didn't give a shit about whether his brother was getting laid, or with who. It was kinky or fucked-up, depending on who you asked, and it was definitely a detour around what they both wanted, but it was _their_ kinky, fucked-up detour. 

Ryousuke looked like he wanted to argue, but instead, he sighed and closed his laptop. "Well, then," he said, leaning back in his chair, fingers tented in front of him. "Who is this 'new one'?"

_Fujiwara Takumi_. 

Keisuke opened his mouth to say it, then shut it again. He could tell himself that Ryousuke wanted him, too, and that one night wasn't some kind of drunken dream, but Fujiwara wasn't just some near-stranger, some random guy who'd had the courage to accept Keisuke's offer. Fujiwara was _Fujiwara_. Ryousuke - and Keisuke too - had been obsessed with the guy ever since they knew he existed.

Keisuke abandoned the doorway to step into the room and close the door firmly behind him. Ryousuke watched him with that careful, controlled look. Keisuke knew it was supposed to mean Keisuke didn't affect him at all, and Keisuke should stop trying to get him to admit it. Right now, it just made Keisuke's decision easier. "He's not a Red Sun," he said, instead of giving Ryousuke the name.

Ryousuke's eyes widened, that careful control slipping again, just a little. "Keisuke --"

"He's already sworn secrecy, aniki, and I believe he'll keep it. He _offered_."

"So have others," Ryousuke pointed out cynically. 

True, unfortunately. Keisuke trusted the Red Suns, but enough people knew that it was impossible to keep Ryousuke's preferences totally secret. Both he and Ryousuke had been approached more than once by lazy jerks who'd thought that this would be a quick way to become famous, as if skill with a car was sexually transmitted, or as if they could blackmail the Takahashi brothers. They'd quickly learned better.

"I know the difference between offering to the White Comet of Akagi and offering to Takahashi Ryousuke," Keisuke said out loud. It came out soft and husky, as if he was doing the offering himself. _Dammit, no. Not here, not now._ Keisuke stopped and cleared his throat before adding, "I'm also fairly sure he's a virgin."

"Is that important?"

"You tell me, aniki." Keisuke met his brother's eyes. He'd been a virgin, that one night.

Ryousuke looked back at Keisuke, really looked at him. His eyes were wide and dark, as if he couldn't help remembering too. _Forget it, it never happened_ \- but it _had_ happened, dammit, and Ryousuke couldn't forget any more than Keisuke could. Even if it was Fujiwara going to his bed, he'd be thinking about Keisuke.

Then Ryousuke looked away, and opened up his laptop. "Thank you, little brother," he said cooly.

Keisuke grimaced, then sighed and left the room. It would be so much easier if he could just give up. Maybe Fujiwara in aniki's bed would do some good after all - both he and aniki could use the distraction.


	3. Full Speed Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryousuke finds out who, exactly, has volunteered to wear the blindfold. Ryousuke x Takumi, for those who care about such things.

With Project D officially under way, Ryousuke had a long list of tasks to occupy his time: races to win, practices to run, targets to scout, new engine types and new racing styles to study, strategies to invent. Keisuke's promise of a new partner had to wait. But at last Ryousuke received the note from Keisuke: this particular love hotel, at that particular time.

It wasn't until Ryousuke was walking down the hall toward the door that it occurred to him that he'd allowed Keisuke to distract him from asking for the name of his new partner. He could call and ask now, but it seemed redundant when he could simply go in and find out for himself. 

No point in hesitating. Perhaps Keisuke had forgotten to tell him the name. He'd remind him if --

Ryousuke stepped through the door, and saw who sat on the bed in plain yukata, blindfold tight around his face, and his thoughts braked to a screaming halt.

Fujiwara. Keisuke had persuaded Fujiwara Takumi to come here.

No. Wait. Not 'persuaded.' Keisuke had said that the new lover had _offered_.

Fujiwara Takumi, the only man who had beaten him, had _offered_ to come here. Fujiwara, about whom Ryousuke had entertained more than one guilty fantasy, had listened to Keisuke tell him about the love hotel and the blindfold and the secrecy (because Keisuke would not have lied about any of those things), and _offered_ to come and lie down for Ryousuke.

Suddenly he understood Keisuke's reticence. The point of these interludes was to _reduce_ Ryousuke's distraction, after all.

Ryousuke closed and locked the door behind him. Then he said, "Good evening." His voice sounded gratifyingly calm.

Fujiwara raised his head, as if he were automatically trying to see who it was. Ryousuke could see his throat move in a nervous swallow. He didn't speak.

For a moment, Ryousuke considered staying over by the door, perhaps thanking Fujiwara for coming there - the sort of polite speeches he'd once considered obligatory, despite the blindfold and all it implied. But he had no patience for empty politeness, not now. He crossed the room, sat down next to Fujiwara on the bed, and tilted up Fujiwara’s head for a kiss.

Fujiwara kissed like a virgin, or at least like someone who didn't have much experience in kissing. At first he was stiff and startled, but gradually - more quickly than Ryousuke had expected, to be honest - he relaxed, and leaned into the kiss.

Ryousuke finally pulled back. Breathe. He had to remember to breathe, and not rush things. He reached up and smoothed Fujiwara’s bangs back out of his face, vaguely aware that his hand was trembling faintly. Fujiwara’s hair was still damp: he must have showered here. The dull brown yukata, already tugged half-loose of its ties, looked like it was also from the hotel. And despite the damp and the cool air in the hotel room, Fujiwara’s skin was flushed, getting more so the longer Ryousuke looked.

Ryousuke kissed him again, quickly this time, and murmured, “Lean back.”

Fujiwara nodded once, and they both shifted position, moving together as if they had practiced it so Fujiwara lay flat on the bed and Ryousuke lay next to him, propped up on one elbow, close enough that Fujiwara would be able to feel him move. Also close enough that Fujiwara’s hip pressed against Ryousuke’s erection. Ryousuke felt Fujiwara tense up for a moment as he noticed it, then relax again.

Ryousuke wet his lips, tempted to go for another kiss. No. He needed his head clear, or as clear as it would get under the circumstances. Instead, he brushed his fingers over Fujiwara’s mouth in a soft tease, then traced them down his chest to the tie of his yukata. He expected Fujiwara to stay still. He expected Fujiwara to lie there under his touch, passive and accepting. It was what Aoki, and Murata, and all his other partners (…almost all) had done. Instead, he pulled free the tie of Fujiwara’s yukata, and as if he’d been waiting for Ryousuke to move, Fujiwara slid one hand up Ryousuke’s arm, and began undoing the buttons of his shirt.

_Ryousuke_ stopped short, caught off balance. Did he – was he – what was Fujiwara _doing_? He wasn’t – was he?

He wasn’t. Or at least, not exactly. Before Ryousuke could find the words for the question he wanted to ask, Fujiwara unbuttoned one last button, then slid his hand up underneath the fabric he had freed, so his fingers lay along the sensitive skin of Ryousuke’s neck. He didn’t tug Ryousuke down, or demand anything. It was only a touch, as if to remind himself where Ryousuke was.

Because he couldn’t see, Ryousuke reminded himself, and felt an unaccustomed sting of guilt. His other partners hadn’t been virgins. They knew what was coming.

(Keisuke hadn’t. Keisuke had been as much a virgin as Fujiwara. But Keisuke hadn’t had a blindfold on, either.)

Ryousuke leaned down, feeling Fujiwara’s hand slide back, warm against his skin. Fujiwara’s mouth was already open, as if he’d been waiting.

When Ryousuke forced himself to pull back again, he was lying half on top of Fujiwara, and the rest of the buttons on his shirt had come undone. Ryousuke took a deep breath to try to regain control of himself, and immediately regretted it. Fujiwara smelled of soap and skin - _hotel_ soap at that. It had no business being this arousing. “What do you want?”

“…mmm?”

The boring brown yukata fell free of Fujiwara’s hip with only a slight push, leaving his bare hip free for Ryousuke’s touch. Ryousuke forced his hand to still again: it was hardly fair to ask this sort of question with his hand all but on Fujiwara’s cock. “What do you expect?”

Fujiwara was silent and still for a moment as if thinking, and then said, “Shouldn’t I be asking that of you?” His voice sounded soft and rough.

“You’ve never been merely what I expected,” Ryousuke said. He shifted his weight, trying to move off Fujiwara so he didn’t give in to the temptation to go back to kissing rather than talking. The shift took the yukata with it, leaving Fujiwara lying exposed on the bed. Ryousuke looked, despite all his good intentions, and kept looking. Long and lean and flushed dark with wanting him – how had he missed this behind the baggy shirts Fujiwara usually wore? How had _everyone_ missed this? “ _Are_ you a virgin?”

Ryousuke had left one hand resting on Fujiwara’s chest. Fujiwara reached up and threaded his fingers through Ryousuke’s. “Yes.”

“Entirely?”

“I’ve kissed a girl before,” Fujiwara said. He sounded almost apologetic, though Ryousuke didn’t know why.

Ryousuke shifted back on top of Fujiwara, one thigh coming to press gently against Fujiwara’s cock. He leaned down and murmured in Fujiwara’s ear, “And you’re willing to let me fuck you?”

Fujiwara’s breath caught, and he squirmed under Ryousuke’s weight, deliberately spreading his legs. He turned his head as if to meet Ryousuke’s eyes, and said, “Yes.”

Well, then.

As usual, Keisuke had left a small bottle of lube sitting on the bedside table. (Ryousuke tried – and failed – not to picture Fujiwara sitting on the bed, blindfold still loose in his hand, eyes fixed on the innocent-looking bottle.) Ryousuke stripped off his own clothes and left them lying neatly on a chair, then turned to find Fujiwara had gotten up as well, enough to shrug out of the yukata entirely.

“Here.” Ryousuke caught his momentary impulse to offer a hand Fujiwara wouldn’t be able to see. “Lie down on your front.”

Fujiwara made an inquisitive noise, but did as Ryousuke had requested, pillowing his head on his arms.

Ryousuke popped open the bottle, which may or may not have been sufficient answer, but even he drew the line at explaining the medical detail behind why it was easier to fuck someone from behind than from the front. “This will be a little uncomfortable,” he said instead, pouring out lube on his fingers.

“I. Um.” Fujiwara hesitated, then muttered something into his arms.

“…Fujiwara?”

He hadn’t thought Fujiwara could flush any more red, but apparently he was wrong. Fujiwara raised his head a little and said more clearly, “I already know.”

He what? Ryousuke carefully rubbed two slippery fingers down Fujiwara’s ass to rest against his opening. The muscle tensed only for a moment, then relaxed under his touch. Hadn’t Fujiwara just said he was a virgin? Unless… Ryousuke swallowed, and said as calmly as he could, “Have you touched yourself?” It came out close to a growl.

“Yes.”

Ryousuke gritted his teeth, and told himself firmly that two fingers was _not_ enough, not for a virgin, and he certainly had enough control not to climb on top of Fujiwara and shove in as if he were a teenager again. Even if he badly wanted to. Even if Fujiwara was pushing up into his fingers, and gasping, small hitching breaths as if he enjoyed Ryousuke’s touch even more than his own.

…on the other hand, Ryousuke decided, if he had to choose between trying for three fingers, and _not_ coming all over Fujiwara’s ass before he got inside, there was something to be said for being impatient.

Putting on the condom was an exercise in frustration. Only habit combined with determination allowed him to do it at all, rather than just pushing inside bare. Fortunately, Fujiwara didn’t try to help with the condom, although Ryousuke suspected that had more to do with the fact that Fujiwara couldn’t _see_ him than lack of desire.

And then – then he was pushing inside Fujiwara, pulling up his hips gently so it would be at a better, easier angle. For all Fujiwara was as relaxed as a virgin could be, he was still dangerously tight, and Ryousuke had to take it slow. This was why he preferred experienced partners, dammit. Except the part of him that kept murmuring drunkenly _a virgin, a virgin who lay down with a blindfold on, a rival but he’s opening for me_. He was ignoring that part as much as he could.

All the way in at last. Ryousuke stopped, realizing that Fujiwara was trembling, and his breathing kept hitching. Was he _crying_? Ryousuke opened his mouth to ask. Before the words could come out, Fujiwara shifted, bracing himself better against the bed, and pushed his hips carefully back against Ryousuke’s body. “Please.”

Ryousuke realized, distantly, that he was trembling too. He kissed Fujiwara again, awkward though it was, and began moving.

It didn’t last long. Any lingering bold ideas about drawing out the sex until Fujiwara was begging burned away in the crucible of simply trying not to come before Fujiwara did. Ryousuke was spinning out, about to lose it, when Fujiwara’s soft gasps became an actual cry, and Ryousuke felt the tell-tale tensing and jerks of Fujiwara's hips.

Fujiwara had come, just from Ryousuke’s cock inside him. That thought was enough to drive Ryousuke over the edge in his turn.

*

Usually Ryousuke withdrew immediately. Usually he asked his partner to wait for a moment, and went to the bathroom himself to clean himself before returning to give them a warm towel. Usually he dressed as quickly as he could and left.

Usually, sex was a cold thing. Sating an urge so it wouldn’t distract him.

This time, it took Ryousuke an embarrassingly long time to remember that it wasn’t polite to collapse on your partner, as they probably wanted to be able to breathe, even if Fujiwara _was_ the same size as he was. He withdrew carefully, and removed and tied off the condom. Fujiwara’s legs were still warm on either side of him.

“Ryousuke-san?” Fujiwara half rolled over. He sounded like he was half-asleep.

“I’m sorry,” Ryousuke said. Fujiwara’s belly was splattered with come, and his thighs were glistening with traces of the lubricant. “I’m going to go get a towel.”

He didn’t pause to shower himself. He could shower when he got home. Instead, he rinsed off his hand in the warming water, and sponged himself clean quickly before soaking another cloth in the now-warm water and bringing it out to Fujiwara. Fujiwara jumped at the touch of the cloth on his skin, then smiled in Ryousuke’s general direction. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing,” Ryousuke said, and leaned down to kiss him, one more time.


	4. Behind Us, Winding Roads. Before Us...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keisuke waits, as patiently as Keisuke ever waits, which isn't very. (Ryouzuke x Keisuke content, for those who care about such details.)

Whenever Ryousuke went to meet a new partner - partner, lover, guy he was fucking, whatever - the first time, Keisuke always waited up until Ryousuke came home. Even if he was the one who'd brought the guy to the love hotel, like this time, he waited up for Ryousuke to return. The first few times, he'd paced around his room, or laid on his bed, unable to stop himself imagining what Ryousuke was doing, and furiously jealous of the guy he was doing it with. By now, though - it wasn't exactly _boring_ , but it wasn't a big deal either. Aniki would get home around 11, pause by Keisuke's doorway, and say, "I'm home." He never talked about what happened, unless the guy had panicked and there wouldn't be a repeat. Sometimes he smiled at Keisuke, soft and warm, before he headed down the hall to his own room.

Keisuke's clock said 11:30.

Keisuke flopped back on his bed. He'd gone out for a drive earlier, just up and down Akagi. Nobody else had been there, just a few kids who'd known better than to challenge the bright yellow FD. He'd come back, and spent the past hour trying to focus on a magazine he'd been meaning to read, the course tape for Project.D's next race, anything that wasn't picturing aniki and Fujiwara together. Fujiwara sprawled on the hotel bed, wearing only that shit hotel bathrobe and the blindfold Keisuke had tied onto him, and aniki crouched over him, leaning down to kiss him -

Keisuke closed his eyes. Dammit. It had been fucking years now. He'd thought he was past this burning in his gut, hard and angry at being hard. 

It hadn't been this bad when it was just aniki. Had it?

*

He'd always known Ryousuke liked boys more than girls. When Keisuke was little, he hadn't thought about it much. Then, when he was ten, he caught Ryousuke kissing another boy.

He'd been looking for Ryousuke - his brother had promised to go swimming with him, if he remembered right. He finally headed outside to see if Ryousuke was hiding in the back yard, and heard a strange noise. He'd followed the noise, only to find Ryousuke under one of the trees, kissing one of his classmates. Keisuke watched them for a moment, then stepped forward, because Ryousuke had promised to spend the afternoon with _him_.

He'd stepped on a twig, or maybe the boy - Keisuke didn't remember his name, if he'd ever known - was just cautious. He'd pulled back from Ryousuke and looked over his shoulder. His eyes widened at Keisuke standing there. "I have to go," he said, and ran off. 

Ryousuke turned around and glared at Keisuke. Keisuke had blinked up at his brother, confused and a little angry himself. "Who was that, otousan?"

"It doesn't matter," Ryousuke said. He reached out and grabbed Keisuke's arm, hard enough to hurt. "Keisuke - you can't tell _anyone_ about this."

Keisuke opened his mouth to indignantly protest that he wouldn't tell, not on Ryousuke, not even on brother-stealing classmates. What came out was, "Ow."

Ryousuke's hand on his arm relaxed, but his face was still flushed, his eyes still intense on Keisuke's face. "Promise, Keisuke."

"Sure," Keisuke said. On impulse, he added, "Will you kiss _me_ if I do?"

He'd meant it as a joke. Mostly. Maybe. Or maybe it was jealousy, about yet another thing that Ryousuke was doing that he couldn't, yet, or maybe it was curiosity, or maybe - hell, Keisuke didn't know, not even after years to think about it. It didn't matter what he'd meant. Ryousuke had laughed, that little huffing laugh that he saved for Keisuke being Keisuke, then leaned down and kissed him quickly on the lips, same as he'd been kissing the other boy. "Thank you," he'd said quietly.

"Are we still going swimming?"

Ryousuke laughed again, and said, "Yes."

Keisuke never saw that boy again. Maybe he was too freaked out by Keisuke catching them, or maybe it was just one of those middle school things. But for a long time, whenever Ryousuke asked Keisuke to do something that Keisuke was going to do anyway, Keisuke would roll his eyes and say, "If I do, will you kiss me?"

Sometimes Ryousuke would. As they got older, more and more often Ryousuke wouldn't. After Keisuke's first kiss from someone else - a girl, at school - he admitted to himself that the joke wasn't funny. Maybe it hadn't ever been funny, and not just in the sense that he'd known never to let their parents hear him say that. 

It wasn't the only reason he pulled back from Ryousuke, and became involved with the bosozoku gang. That was a long list, and a hell of a lot more complicated than just a half-assed crush he didn't want to admit. But wanting his brother to kiss him was _on_ the list.

Keisuke didn't like to remember the next year. First his mother, then his father gave up on him. His only friends were bosozoku same as him. He didn't even bother hiding his abysmal grades: it wasn't like he was going to university like his oh-so-perfect older brother. Then, one night, as he headed out after dinner to join his friends, Ryousuke caught his wrist. "Ride with me."

"You don't have a motorcycle," Keisuke retorted.

Ryousuke didn't yell back, the way Keisuke had half-hoped, half-expected. He squeezed Keisuke's wrist, then let go. "In my car, Keisuke." He headed out the door, without even looking back to make sure Keisuke would follow. 

After a second, Keisuke did. He'd had plans, but they'd wait. Compared to his brother actually talking to him again, they'd have to wait.

Once they were in the car, though Ryousuke didn't say anything. After a few minutes, Keisuke said, "Where are we going?"

"The mountain."

"Akagi?"

No response. Maybe it was a stupid question - Akagi was the biggest, most impressive mountain around, of course it was Akagi - but the silence still grated.

"Why Akagi?"

That at least got him a sidelong look. Still no answer, though.

Keisuke didn't remember anything about the trip up Akagi. They'd been alone: no traffic, no racers, nothing but them and the night. When they got up to the top, Ryousuke had parked along the side of the road and said, quietly, "You've been bosozoku for a while now."

"No shit," Keisuke muttered, slumping down in his seat. If this was going to be another lecture, he'd fucking _walk_ back home. 

"What are you going to do after you graduate next year?"

The gang had some plans, but Keisuke didn't think that was what Ryousuke meant. "I don't know," he said, and then, like he couldn't stop, "Why are you even _asking_? You already know what I'm doing, and I don't want to know how the fuck you do _that_ , but you never just _talk_ to me. Why now? What's happening? Did Mom and Dad finally nag you into being a proper big brother, the way they nagged you into university? Did you go on the omiai they want, or did you tell them you're never getting married? For fuck's sake, why do you even _care_ what they think? I'm not hurting them! Being bosozoku, that's _mine_ , not theirs. Do you even understand?"

Keisuke paused, mostly for lack of breath. Ryousuke shifted in his seat, where he'd been listening quietly. "I understand," he said quietly. "I'm not asking for our parents. I'm asking because I want to know your plans. Do you intend to continue to be bosozuku? Become Yakusa?"

"It doesn't _work_ like that," Keisuke retorted. They didn't let you into the Yakusa until you were at least twenty, and anyway, he hadn't decided yet. Didn't matter. 'Maybe' wasn't the kind of answer you yelled at your annoying, interfering big brother. "I'm not - why are you _asking_? You don't even care! You're just going off to school to be their perfect doctor!"

Ryousuke kissed him.

Not some passionate kiss, to Keisuke's frustration. It was a tauntingly light kiss, directly on his lips, like they were kids again and Ryousuke had asked him to do something that they both knew he was going to do anyway. 

Keisuke hadn't remembered to breathe yet when Ryousuke said in his ear, "Come. Let me show you something." He turned the car around - not some polite little three-point turn, or u-turn through an opening, but a glorious controlled skid that spun the car around like a top. Then he hit the accelerator, and Keisuke fell in love.

Not with Ryousuke, this time, although when Keisuke turned to him at the bottom of the mountain and said, "Teach me how to do that, aniki," a part of him was fiercely glad that it _was_ Ryousuke here, showing him this. He didn't fall in love with the FC, either, although Keisuke would defend his brother's car to his last breath against these stupid newer models. Keisuke fell in love with a future. Street racing led somewhat more than just rebelling for the sake of rebelling. Street racers could become _legends_. Aniki already was one. He wanted Keisuke to be one, too. 

Of course Keisuke said yes. 

He quit the gang (which wasn't easy, and not just because he was leaving behind some of the best friends he'd had). He got his driving license. He improved his grades, not up to Ryousuke's level, but enough that his parents agreed to buy him a car. A few months of practice, with Ryousuke's training, and he earned his way onto the Red Suns (still new and fragile - Keisuke suspected Fumihiro was actually relieved when the random stranger who came out of nowhere and beat him turned out to be Ryousuke's brother). 

Two weeks after he joined, while waiting around at practice, he caught Fumihiro staring. Aniki had popped the hood on someone else's car, and leaned in to point out something about the engine. Fumihiro, in the middle of explaining a racing strategy to Keisuke, faltered in the middle of his sentence. Keisuke looked up from the map spread out on the hood of his FD, first at Fumihiro, then over where Fumihiro was looking. "Oi." 

Fumihiro jumped, then flushed bright red. "I'm, er - I'm very sorry, Keisuke-san, I don't -"

"Nah," Keisuke said mildly. The part of him that had tensed up when he saw Fumihiro looking, relaxed at the sputtered apology. "It's just - that's my _brother_."

Fumihiro blinked, and the red receded from his face. Finally, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Keisuke-san, but don't you have _eyes_?"

Keisuke was pretty sure Fumihiro didn't mean it like that, but he grinned back anyway. Fumihiro was right. Aniki's ass deserved a second look.

Fumihiro wasn't the only one looking. Sometimes, Ryousuke wouldn't return home the same time as Keisuke. It took Keisuke a while to put that fact together with aniki's moods - Ryousuke never got _cranky_ , but after one of those extra-late nights, he concentrated better and smiled more. 

Keisuke didn't think about it. He had plenty of other things to think about, after all. The Red Suns were getting better, and bigger. Keisuke started racing, first other Red Suns, then outside teams. Finally, there came the night that Keisuke won his first real race, a challenge to one of the other teams who'd tried to lay claim to Akagi. 

Fumihiro smiled and said, "As expected from the White Comet's brother." Matsumoto, their best mechanic, only nodded. Most of the others shook Keisuke's hand, or smiled at him, or half-jokingly bowed to him. Ryousuke waited until they were walking back to their cars, mostly alone, then said quietly, "If you continue doing that, I _will_ kiss you."

Keisuke almost laughed at that. Racing - and winning - was _definitely_ something he intended to keep doing. Instead, he grinned at his brother, victory-drunk and reckless, and said, "Why wait?"

Ryousuke looked over at him sharply. "Keisuke -"

"No one's around, aniki." There was a faint murmur of voices, off down the road somewhere, but no one in sight. "Just a quick -"

Ryousuke cut him off with the kiss he'd wanted. It wasn't quick, or soft, or any of the things Keisuke thought he knew to expect. Ryousuke pulled him in close, like Keisuke was one of his boyfriends, and kissed him open-mouthed. 

Keisuke forgot to breathe. He barely remembered how to stand. He leaned in, kissing Ryousuke back, only to have Ryousuke jerk away. It took Keisuke a second to hear the voices, closer now as whoever it was came up to the top of the mountain. They'd almost been caught.

Keisuke swallowed, and forced himself to take a step back. That hadn't just been some joke. That had been something more, _the_ something more he'd been shoving down for a long time now. "Home?" he said. His voice came out hoarse and shaky.

"Yes," Ryousuke said.

Getting home was an exercise in frustration - or maybe just an exercise in driving while distracted. Aniki liked to teach, Keisuke told himself, but right now it didn't sound reassuring. It sounded like he was headed home, to Ryousuke, who knew so much more about what guys could do in bed. And who had just kissed him.

By the time Keisuke got home, Ryousuke's FC sat in its usual spot. Keisuke hesitated a second, tempted to lay a hand on the hood and see if it was still hot. He grimaced at himself - like that would prove anything. It was late. If he had any sense, he'd just go to bed. The kiss wasn't anything but motivation. It didn't change anything.

Keisuke paused by his door before going in, looking down the hall. Ryousuke's door stood open, like an invitation.

_If you keep doing this…_

Keisuke didn't bother to knock, just pushed the door the rest of the way open. Ryousuke stood over by the door out onto the balcony, looking out. Keisuke cleared his throat, and said, "Aniki?"

Ryousuke turned around. His eyes glittered, dark and intense like before a race. For a second, Keisuke wondered if he'd guessed wrong. He glanced down. Nope. Aniki was hard, not even trying to hide it. "Keisuke," he said. 

Keisuke stepped inside the room, and closed the door behind him.

The kiss had only given Keisuke a hint of what aniki was like, once they were safely alone. Ryousuke didn't hold back. He stripped Keisuke's clothes off, pausing after tossing away each item to look up at Keisuke, eyebrows raised, as if waiting for Keisuke to hit the brakes. Keisuke laughed after Ryousuke pulled off his socks and looked up _again_. "I'm not going to say no, aniki."

"You don't know what I want to do to you," Ryousuke said, and reached up to squeeze Keisuke's erection.

"You want to have sex with me," Keisuke said, although it came out strangled, because if Ryousuke _didn't_ want to have sex with him, then he needed to stop touching him like that.

He waited for his brother to say something about his language - Ryousuke was always more careful about using polite language. Instead, Ryousuke shook his head, gaze fixed on his hand, and said calmly, "I want to suck your cock until you come, then fuck you."

"Yes," Keisuke said hoarsely, then grabbed his brother's hand before Ryousuke could squeeze his cock again. "Just - aniki, I'm going to come already, please."

"Ah." Ryousuke moved his hand, just up to the snap of Keisuke's slacks, and popped them open. He glanced up once more - not questioning this time - and leaned in to take Keisuke's cock into his mouth anyway. 

It was awkward, and not all that sexy except for the part where it was _Ryousuke_. It didn't matter. Looking down and seeing Ryousuke, flushed, eyes closed, lips wrapped around his cock, was enough. Keisuke lasted maybe thirty seconds.

Ryousuke pulled away, coughing. 

It took Keisuke a second to recognize the huffing laugh that meant Ryousuke had expected it. "Aniki?" he said, not sure if he should be upset.

"I'm sorry," Ryousuke said, and tugged at Keisuke's slacks, pulling them the rest of the way down to the floor.. "At least with cars, I have experience."

Keisuke swallowed hard, cock already twitching with returning arousal as he stepped out of his slacks. "I thought -" Ryousuke wasn't a virgin: Keisuke _knew_ that. But it wasn't like he'd followed his brother on one of those nights he wasn't out racing. "I thought you, uh, knew how…"

"It's been a very long time since I knelt for anyone," Ryousuke said. He stood up, and smiled down at Keisuke, a real smile. "I have more experience doing...other things."

"Show me," Keisuke said, and followed Ryousuke to the bed.

*

"I'm home!"

Keisuke's eyes flew open. Next to him, he felt Ryousuke tense up and stop breathing.

"Are you there?" their mother called from somewhere downstairs.

Keisuke sat up, wincing involuntarily, and rolled off the bed. His mind whirled with panic. If she came upstairs - shit, shit, they hadn't even showered after the last time --

Ryousuke rolled over. "Keisuke," he said, hardly louder than a breath. "Go to your room. I'll go shower."

"She won't come in here?" The room smelled of sweat and sex. Even if she didn't guess what they'd been doing, she'd _wonder_.

"No," Ryousuke said. He paused a moment, head tilted as if listening, then said, "Go!"

Keisuke went, running next door to his own room as quietly as possible. He'd barely gotten inside, door closed, when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Mom paused outside his door, but didn't knock. "I'm home," she said, more quietly.

"Welcome home," Keisuke said, and forced a yawn so he'd sound convincing.

Mom seemed to be convinced, anyway. She laughed, and said, "Is Ryousuke in the bathroom?"

"Probably." Keisuke frowned at the door. How would he know that?

"I'll go make breakfast, then. Tell him when he comes out!"

"I will," Keisuke said, and listened to the footsteps going back down the stairs.

He didn't get the chance to talk to his brother until late that afternoon, after their parents headed back to Tokyo. Once the door shut behind Mom and Dad, Keisuke had slumped in relief, then - when Ryousuke smiled and shook his head at him, same as always - stretched, trying to relax muscles that had been tensed up all day from not reacting. It took him a second to notice the electric silence. He turned around, and caught Ryousuke's eyes on his waist and the sliver of skin he'd exposed.

Keisuke took a step forward, and as if startled, Ryousuke looked up sharply. "Keisuke, no."

He didn't need to say anything else. Keisuke knew what he meant: no sex, no kisses, going back to the way things were. But he said, "Aniki?" anyway, just in case he was wrong.

Sure enough, Ryousuke turned away, and folded his arms in front of himself. "We can't do that again."

"Do which part of it? Because I'm not giving up winning, aniki."

It was a lame joke. Ryousuke ignored it, as it deserved, and said, "You know which part."

The sex. Of course. No matter how amazing it had been - and it _had_ been amazing, better than the first time he'd run Akagi on his own - Keisuke knew damn well it wasn't supposed to have happened, and it couldn't happen again. If Mom had been just a little more quiet… Instead of saying that, what came out his mouth was, "Then what do we do instead?"

Ryousuke swung back around, eyes narrowed. "Keisuke."

"We can't pretend it never happened," Keisuke said steadily. He wasn't sure what he was going to say until he said it, but he was right, he knew he was. " _I_ can't pretend it never happened. Aniki."

Ryousuke flinched at that. "I won't hurt you," he said. 

"I know that. But we can't just shove it away, either."

"Why did you think I said no this long? The risk of discovery alone --"

"You're taking just as much a risk with your one-night boys!" Keisuke retorted. "Why shouldn't --" and then the idea dropped into Keisuke's head, fully formed.

Ryousuke waited a moment, then said, "Keisuke?"

Keisuke took a deep breath. "You can't take me to bed." For just a second, he let himself remember it, spread on Ryousuke's bed with Ryousuke between his legs. Then he shoved the memory away. He might not want to accept it, but he would. He even understood _why_ Ryousuke was pale and stubborn about it. But there was something his brother had forgotten. "You can't be seen to take _any_ guy to your bed. If you keep on, then you're the one risking discovery." He waited until Ryousuke looked up and met his gaze. "But if I'm the one who asks," he said, "if I'm the one who sets it up...nobody cares, except us."

Ryousuke frowned, but he didn't immediately say _no_. Instead, after a moment, he said carefully, "The men you set up - they'll all know anyway."

"Doesn't matter," Keisuke said. "I'll tell them to wear a blindfold. They can pretend. We can _all_ pretend." You most of all, aniki, he thought. If Ryousuke wanted to think either of them would be able to just _forget_ , then he was pretending most of all.

*

That had been two years ago. Maybe he'd been pretending more than he realized, or Ryousuke less. He'd never forgotten that night, but next to the racing, it hadn't mattered as much. Even if he couldn't have his brother in his bed, he could have him on the mountains.

Then Fujiwara showed up, Fujiwara and his stupid perfect driving and his sleepy eyes that sharpened right before a race and the intensity of his attention when he really listened to you. And Ryousuke smiled at him, the way he used to only smile at Keisuke.

Keisuke heard a car approaching, and looked over at his clock. Past midnight. He rolled off his bed, and knelt down, looking for the magazine he'd tossed aside. He refused to have Ryousuke come home and find him _pining_ , like some heroine in a shoujo manga.

The expected knock came a few minutes later. Keisuke tossed the magazine to one side, and looked up as the door swung open. “Welcome home, aniki.”

“I’m back,” Ryousuke said, leaning against the doorframe. His hair was damp, as usual, but he lounged against the wood as if he didn't have any bones. His eyes crinkled in a faint, fond smile - whether because of Keisuke, or because of the evening, Keisuke didn't know and wasn't sure he wanted to know.

“How did it go? As expected?” He always asked. Ryousuke would _notice_ if he didn't ask.

Ryousuke paused a moment, then he said, “Better.”

Keisuke froze still, an illogical panic rising before he shoved it back down again. He sat up slowly. “Better?” he repeated. Better than what? His other partners? Keisuke himself?

“You were right,” Ryousuke said, which wasn't an answer. His smile widened. “He knew to whom he was offering himself.”

“And he didn’t hold back?”

“Have we ever seen Fujiwara hold back?”

Keisuke swallowed hard. He could so easily picture it. Fujiwara wouldn't be meek or passive, just lying there and allowing Ryousuke to use him as he wanted. Even if Fujiwara was the receiver, he would move, and push back, just as he did on the mountains. Maybe if aniki had help, another person to help him against Fujiwara. With the blindfold on, would Fujiwara even know someone else was there? The idea sent an unwilling throb of arousal through him.

Ryousuke didn't wait for an answer, anyway. “Good night, Keisuke,” he said instead, and vanished back out into the hall. The door clicked shut behind him.

Keisuke let himself flop back onto his bed, and slid his hand into his pants. Fuck it. He'd spent all evening not thinking about aniki, or Fujiwara, or how much he wanted them both. Now he was going to jerk off over what Ryousuke just did, and not give a shit, because he didn't care any more.


	5. The Balance Shifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryousuke decides to change things up, and Takumi realizes some fantasies aren't as impossible as he thought. (Takumi x Ryousuke content - oh no, she's changing things up!)

Dad hadn’t left yet when Takumi came downstairs. Takumi stopped short. It wasn’t the first time he’d left while the old man was still in the house – he did it all the time for Project D, and didn’t even think about it any more. It was just that this time, it _wasn’t_ for Project D, and the blindfold in his pocket felt like it must be glowing.

“You have a ride to the meeting?”

Dad mumbled something that sounded like a _yes_ around his cigarette. He didn’t even look up from his paper.

“G’night, then.” Takumi scooped up the keys to the 86, and headed out the door. His neck prickled like the old man was looking at him, but he didn’t look back. It wasn’t that his dad _frightened_ him, it was just that he really, really didn’t want to have the conversation about whether he was going to practice on the mountain pass. Mostly because he wasn’t.

He’d already looked up the route to the hotel, mostly to avoid the highway. The drive didn’t go through anywhere particularly interesting, which was sort of a relief, given his distraction. Every time he shifted gears, the blindfold in his pocket pressed against his leg.

He’d done this three times. This would be the fourth.

The first time, Keisuke had gone with him – Takumi wasn’t sure whether it was because it _was_ the first time, or because love hotels didn’t accept reservations and he wouldn’t let Takumi pay. Keisuke had waited until Takumi had showered and come out, dressed in the hotel-provided yukata, then knelt behind him on the bed and tied on the blindfold. Takumi had sat very still, pricklingly aware of his bare skin under the terrycloth, next to Keisuke still dressed, and pretended he wasn’t trembling as Keisuke’s warm fingers pulled the fabric tight across his eyes.

This time it was an actual hotel, with an actual reservation. The shower was the same, even if the soap provided was better, and so was the yukata. Takumi laid his clothes on a chair, ready for him to put them on again afterwards, and pulled the blindfold out of his jeans pocket.

Ryousuke would be there in a few minutes. Takumi sat down on the bed, and looked down at the blindfold, spread flat across his knees. It was just a piece of fabric. He was the one who tied it on himself. And he knew who came into the room: it wasn’t like Ryousuke had ever tried to change his voice or pretend to be someone else or even _do_ something else. He trusted Ryousuke. Every time, though, it took Takumi a moment to find the nerve to put on the blindfold. It was easier to spread his legs for Ryousuke: by then, he didn't have to think about it.

Footsteps out in the hall. No more time to think at all. Takumi closed his eyes, raised the fabric to his face, and tied it carefully behind his head.

The door opened and shut. A faint click: the deadbolt being thrown, probably. Then approaching footsteps, muffled on the carpet.

Even being able to hear Ryousuke approach, Takumi still jumped a little when a hand touched his shoulder. That was probably why Ryousuke did it, he knew; to silently tell Takumi where he was, and give him that important half-second of warning before he leaned down to kiss him.

They always started with a kiss. Nothing else had been exactly the same. The first time had been hard and fast, and they'd wound up having sex three times before Ryousuke finally left. The second time, Ryousuke took Takumi slow and gentle as if they were lovers after all. He'd stayed afterwards for a while, and they'd talked, first about Project.D, then about cars in general, where Takumi learned to drive, where Ryousuke learned to drive 

The third time, Takumi had reached out and tried to explore Ryousuke, as well as he could without being able to see him. At first Ryousuke had laughed, maybe because Takumi had nearly put his fingers up Ryousuke’s nose, but gradually his breath had got shorter, and finally he’d grabbed Takumi’s hips and pushed up inside him and taken him nearly as hard and fast as the first time. They'd wound up sharing the shower, and Ryousuke had gone to his knees and sucked Takumi off before fucking him again.

This time was back to slower. Ryousuke kissed him for a long moment, then murmured against his mouth, “Move back.”

Takumi breathed agreement, then pushed himself backwards on the bed. The bed moved under him as if Ryousuke was crawling onto the bed as well. They settled with Takumi’s back against the pillows, and Ryousuke sitting astride him.

It was easier, facing each other like this – no awkward cricks in the neck from having to hold his head at an odd angle, just to be able to kiss Ryousuke; no twisting around just to be able to touch him. In fact, when Takumi reached up to start undoing Ryousuke’s shirt, Ryousuke didn’t even pull away to do it himself. His hands went still on Takumi’s shoulders, and he didn’t move.

Takumi stopped, just in case. “Ryousuke-san?”

A deep breath, that Takumi felt against his hands more than heard, and Ryousuke said quietly, “Go on.”

That was good enough. Takumi carefully pulled Ryousuke’s shirt free from his slacks, then slid his hand up underneath it, both to check and make sure it was free, and also just to feel the warm smoothness of Ryousuke’s skin. After a moment of exploration, he heard something like a stifled laugh from Ryousuke, and stopped short. He didn’t remember Ryousuke being ticklish, at least not that he’d found last time, but he still didn’t want to find out by tickling him when he didn't want to be tickled.

Takumi used the hand already under Ryousuke's shirt to push the shirt upwards. Ryousuke shifted his weight after a momentl, and the fabric of the shirt vanished from against Takumi's hand. Ryousuke must have pulled it off himself. Takumi waited for the sound of fabric falling to the floor, then pulled Ryousuke forward.

He meant to kiss Ryousuke, but his lips landed on Ryousuke’s cheek. He felt it move as if Ryousuke was smiling at him. Takumi felt his face heat – they weren’t children, and he didn’t mean anything innocent. He shifted again to nuzzle his way down to Ryousuke’s neck, which at least didn’t involve any guess-work to find.

Even better, it got a reaction. Ryousuke leaned into Takumi’s mouth, and murmured, “Harder.”

Takumi smiled, without caring if Ryousuke saw, and opened his mouth, gently scraping his teeth over Ryousuke’s skin. Ryousuke shivered, and let out that shuddering breath that wasn’t _quite_ a moan.

_Harder_. He wanted to hear that almost-moan again. Takumi tried to remember what touches made Ryousuke react last time.

They kissed again: not gentle at all, but a kind of kiss that involved teeth. Takumi dragged his fingers down Ryousuke’s spine, pressing hard so it wouldn’t tickle. A touch to the skin just above the waist of Ryousuke’s slacks made Ryousuke jump. Takumi raised his hand to do it again, but Ryousuke reached back and caught his wrist, bringing Takumi’s hand around to press against the front of Ryousuke’s slacks.

Ryousuke was hard. It wasn’t like it was the first time Takumi had ever felt Ryousuke’s erection; there was no reason for his pulse to speed up like this. It still sent a thrill through him to explore, even through the slacks, shamelessly pressing his palm against it and rubbing. Ryousuke’s breath caught, and he pushed back up against Takumi’s hand with another of those almost-moans. Then, as if remembering his control, he pulled back, just a little, and said, “Not like that.” A brush of his fingers led Takumi’s up to the fastening of his slacks.

“Of course,” Takumi said.

It wasn’t as easy as it should have been: just a button and a zipper, backwards and while blindfolded. …all right, perhaps Takumi had an excuse. Or maybe it was an _additional_ excuse, because every move, every tug of the fabric or the zipper, seemed to make Takumi’s hand brush against Ryousuke’s cock again.

He finally freed the zipper from whatever fabric had tangled it, and eased it all the way down. Only then did he realize what he hadn’t been feeling. There should have been an extra layer of fabric underneath, something else between him and the heat of Ryousuke’s erection.

Ryousuke hadn’t put on any underwear.

Ryousuke was naked. It was ridiculous, and not entirely true, but the mental image of Ryousuke dressing, pulling on his elegant slacks over his bare cock, still made Takumi swallow hard. He’d _seen_ Ryousuke naked (or felt him naked, at least). He shouldn’t be this distracted by the _idea_ of Ryousuke.

Ryousuke pulled away from Takumi’s loosened grip, which at least took away the source of the distraction. Takumi found his focus again, and shrugged out of the yukata, undoing the knot with a couple quick tugs. Things were starting to speed up, and he didn’t want anything in the way. He could hear the rustling of fabric, probably Ryousuke getting rid of his slacks.

A moment later, Ryousuke came back, and straddled Takumi again. Takumi opened his mouth to ask why – did he want Takumi to suck him? – when he heard the familiar pop of the lube bottle opening. Ryousuke took Takumi’s right hand and slicked up two fingers with an easy, swirling caress of his hand. Not sucking, then, but something else. It still didn’t make sense, though. Takumi was willing to prepare himself if Ryousuke wanted, but the positions were all wrong.

Then Ryousuke took Takumi’s hand by the wrist again, and gently pulled it around so Takumi’s fingers rested lightly on Ryousuke’s ass.

Takumi forgot to breathe for a second. Ryousuke wanted – he was offering – this wasn’t a joke?

“Fujiwara?”

Months of working together on Project.D had taught Takumi to read Ryousuke pretty well. That wasn’t ‘what are you thinking,’ that was ‘will you do this?’ If Ryousuke actually said ‘please,’ then Takumi would lose control entirely. Takumi pressed his fingers forward, slowly breaching the ring. 

He wasn't really sure what he was doing. It wasn't like he'd ever done this with anyone but himself. But he remembered Ryousuke's example, and the little information he'd been able to find out other places, and moved his fingers in and out, slowly and carefully. This was supposed to help Ryousuke relax. He wasn't sure how, since _he_ was almost trembling from what he was doing and what he was preparing Ryousuke for. This close, this intimate, he could feel Ryousuke trembling, tool. A third finger. Was this enough? It had to be enough, or he'd come before he even got inside. Ryousuke would tell him if it wasn't.

Takumi pulled out his fingers. As if Ryousuke had been waiting for that, Takumi heard something rip, and felt something on his cock – a condom, he guessed. He was more aware of Ryousuke’s fingers carefully rolling the latex down him, then gliding back up, cool and slippery, than he was of the probably-condom itself. Then Ryousuke shifted forward, holding Takumi’s cock carefully, and pushed down.

For a second, Takumi couldn’t think at all. It was real, it was happening, it was…not going in easily at all. Had he not relaxed Ryousuke enough after all? But it was Ryousuke choosing how fast they were going.

It was also Ryousuke staying very still, and Ryousuke breathing deeply in and out, and Ryousuke trembling, the deep kind that Takumi might not have noticed if he hadn’t been half-buried in Ryousuke. Takumi stroked Ryousuke’s thigh, carefully, trying for _soothing_ rather than _teasing_. The almost painfully tight grip of Ryousuke’s ass eased a little, but not enough.

With his other hand, Takumi followed the line of Ryousuke’s legs up farther. Ryousuke hadn’t totally lost his erection, but he wasn’t nearly as hard as he’d been before. Takumi wrapped his fingers around it, not too gentle. _Harder_ , Ryousuke had said.

Sure enough, Ryousuke involuntarily moved , pressing up into Takumi’s hand, then back onto his cock, a little farther, a little more relaxed. “Fujiwara—“

“Ryousuke-san?”

A hand took Takumi’s unslippery hand, and laced their fingers together. On impulse, Takumi brought it up to his lips for a quick kiss.

He heard Ryousuke’s breath stop short for a moment. Then Ryousuke let out the breath in a sigh, and slid the rest of the way down.

The sensation was incredible - better than his own hand, better than the fantasy he'd never admitted to having.. Takumi swallowed hard, trying to remember his own breathing so he wouldn’t try to thrust up, or (more likely) just come immediately.

Ryousuke must have noticed. His free hand touched Takumi’s arm, and he asked,“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Ryousuke shifted a little, and Takumi added, somewhat strangled, “I’m _very_ fine.” _You can wait. Really. Just give me a moment._

“Good,” Ryousuke said, and _moved_.

At first it was still slow and careful. Takumi wasn’t sure when, exactly, it stopped being careful, much less when he started thrusting up. He couldn’t hear Ryousuke’s breathing over the pounding of his pulse in his ears. There was only the smooth sheets, the rucked-up yukata underneath him, his cock buried in Ryousuke, Ryousuke’s cock thick against his hand, and his other hand laced with Ryousuke’s,.

Then Ryousuke’s grip on his hand tightened, and the trembling increased. He was close, Takumi realized. He was going to come from Takumi fucking him.

Takumi bit his lip, trying to hold back, but the thought punched through his control. He came.

His head cleared a bit, and he felt Ryousuke still trembling. Takumi grimaced at himself, and closed his hand around Ryousuke’s cock again, as hard as he dared. It worked. With an actual moan, Ryousuke came as well.

There was a long moment when all Takumi could hear was shaky breathing – his and Ryousuke’s both. Ryousuke didn’t move. Finally he let go of Takumi’s hand and pulled off him entirely. Takumi’s breath caught at the sensation. Unfortunately, it was then followed by the pulling off of the condom, which was less pleasant.

Ryousuke moved away – the bed dipped, so Takumi guessed he was disposing of the condom. Ryousuke returned in a moment, without the usual warm damp towels, and lay down next to Takumi. Something brushed against Takumi’s clean hand, and he turned it to find Ryousuke’s hand waiting. Their fingers laced together again, more tightly this time. Takumi shifted a little more close to Ryousuke’s warm weight, and realized that Ryousuke was still trembling.

For a bewildered, guilty moment, Takumi wondered if Ryousuke _hadn’t_ come. No. He’d come. Takumi had felt it under his hand and against his belly. It was something else. “Ryousuke-san?”

“I’m all right," Ryousuke said.

"Mmm," Takumi said. A memory rumbled in the back of his mind: when _he'd_ left the love hotel, after the first time he lay down for Ryousuke - for _anyone_ \- he'd sat down (carefully) in the driver's seat of his car, wrapped his arms around himself, and shook for a half-hour. If Ryousuke had only ever done things the one way --

"It _is_ all right," Ryousuke said, more firmly this time. "There is only one other person I would ever think about allowing to take me." His voice softened, and his hand tightened around Takumi's. "I'm glad it was you."

"Thank you," Takumi said, after an awkward moment trying to figure out what to say. That sounded like it _had_ been Ryousuke's first time receiving, and the knowledge that Ryousuke had chosen _Takumi_ sent a little shiver of renewed arousal through him.

"It's not going to change things." Ryousuke's voice had sharpened again, as stern as when they were on the mountain, and his body next to Takumi's tensed, as if ready to get out of the bed immediately.

Takumi laughed despite himself, and felt Ryousuke relax as Takumi said. "Of course not, Ryousuke-san." Ryousuke was still Ryousuke, no matter whose cock went where, the same as Takumi had proven to himself that _he_ hadn't changed despite taking it up the ass. "You still know more about racing than I do. And before we began this, Keisuke _said_ we'd never be lovers, not like that."

Ryousuke huffed out a laugh of his own, leaning over to kiss Takumi quickly. "Keisuke believes I need something like this --" His free hand stroked Takumi's hip, "-- or I become distracted. Before he began to organize my partners, I did date like a normal person, but they always became jealous of racing, or Keisuke, or both."

"Mmm." Itsuki had complained a few times that Project.D had 'stolen' Takumi from him. "Is that why Keisuke chooses for you?"

"No," Ryousuke said. His voice was calm and even, but his hand had tightened around Takumi's again. "He is the other person."

There was a moment of silence - or longer than a moment, Takumi couldn't guess any more with his head spinning like this. Ryousuke and Keisuke - _Ryousuke_ and _Keisuke_ \- how? When? Why?

...why ask? Whatever was between them, it hadn't destroyed them. Keisuke still listened to Ryousuke as a teacher. He knew Takumi was sleeping with Ryousuke - he'd set it all up - but he didn't treat Takumi any differently than before. And when Takumi had first admitted that he might like men, Ryousuke hadn't been the only star in his fantasies. He'd imagined Keisuke just as often. Sometimes at the same time.

"I understand," Takumi said out loud.

"Do you?"

"I don't have a brother," Takumi said. "But I don't hate you for wanting Keisuke." He shrugged awkwardly. He couldn't say _I've wanted him too_ , not without sounding greedy at best.

"Good," Ryousuke said. He rolled over so he was half-lying on top of Takumi, and kissed him, fierce and biting. "Because I want you as well," he said, against Takumi's mouth.

Takumi moaned into the kiss. He wasn't going to forget what Ryousuke had said, not that easily. But he wouldn't turn down the challenge of Ryousuke's attempted distraction, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this early due to being off on vacation, and away from my computer, for the next several days. Next chapter may be delayed for the same reason, but I'll try to get it up on my usual Saturday. :fingers crossed:


	6. Taking A Blind Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Keisuke issues a challenge without really realizing what he's getting himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay - I came back from vacation and promptly collapsed with Post Vacation Flu! If this week's installment doesn't make it up to you, hopefully next week's will. I promise wall-to-wall smut.

July. Project.D had conquered three prefectures and was in the middle of attacking a fourth, right on track with a perfect record of wins and new records.. Keisuke's driving improved every week. By the end of the summer, the world of professional racing wouldn't know what hit it.

On the other hand, Ryousuke had finally found someone that kept his attention, that didn't freak out or lose patience or any of the stupid reasons all his previous partners called the arrangement off. Worse, the someone was the only guy who could keep up - who could _more_ than keep up - with Keisuke on the mountains.

That wasn't the worst problem, though. The worst was that something had changed with Fujiwara, and Keisuke didn't know how to handle it.

Not the obvious changes - he was used to those by now. For example, Fujiwara talked to Keisuke, and not about driving. Well, sometimes about driving, and racing, and cars, because when they talked, it was mostly because their mechanics were tweaking something with their cars and they had ten minutes to wait. Back when they'd started practicing, though, they'd politely ignored each other when they had to wait like that. Now Keisuke found himself telling Fujiwara about stupid shit, Red Suns details that only aniki or Fumihiro cared about, or family politics that not even Keisuke himself cared about, and Fujiwara _listened_.

That was another thing. Fujiwara knew how to listen. Not just how to be quiet - hell, when Keisuke first knew him, Fujiwara was so quiet Keisuke thought he _wasn't_ listening, which nearly backfired on both of them. Fujiwara _listened_ , better even than aniki. With aniki, Keisuke was never completely sure that Ryousuke wasn't off thinking about something else, some plan or important detail. Fujiwara never did that. Sometimes he got distracted, yeah, but it was so obvious that Keisuke could always tell, and keep his own mouth shut until Fujiwara finally got over it.

Fujiwara had always been his rival - yes, all right, he was Ryousuke's rival just as much, with the whole _I'm the only one who can beat him_ last year after Keisuke made an idiot of himself, and Ryousuke being the one to avenge Fujiwara against Sudoh, and Fujiwara asking for a re-match against _aniki_ before finally saying yes to Project.D. Keisuke could understand that. Aniki was his rival, too. But after the first few races, as the 86 and the FD passed each other on the way to their start lines, Fujiwara would meet Keisuke's eyes with this look, like a silent challenge just between them. Then Fujiwara went and did something impossible on the way to winning, so Keisuke had to do it too just to keep _up_.

A rival. Something like a friend. That was complicated enough. But in the past couple weeks, Keisuke caught Fujiwara...watching him. Not a challenge, or studying him like he wanted to learn how Keisuke moved, or even just the how-is-Keisuke-doing look that Ryousuke did all the time. Something more. Something where his gaze lingered on Keisuke's mouth, or his hands. Not in a perverted kind of way, just...something different. Something had changed, and Keisuke didn't know what.

Dammit. Fujiwara had aniki. Aniki was _happy_ \- Keisuke hadn't seen him so relaxed in years. Keisuke still loved his brother, still wanted his brother, but he'd thought that maybe, with Fujiwara, he could start to let go. Instead, he found himself remembering waiting in that hotel room the first time, sitting on the chair listening to the shower, and Fujiwara's blush as he opened the tiny bathroom door, shrugging into the yukata as he stepped into the room.

Finally, in Ibaraki prefecture, things came to a head.

The latest race was three hours away from home - too far for the racers of Project D to go home, sleep, and come back for a race, at least if they expected to be fresh enough to actually _race_. Keisuke and Fujiwara faced two guys who’d actually come out of street racing retirement just to race them, guys with the nicknames “God-foot” and “God-arm.” Ryousuke insisted on getting his two racers an actual room for the day, rather than making them sleep in their cars. 

Keisuke appreciated his brother's concern, but even given a futon instead of a car’s seat, it wasn’t like he could just switch off. It took him a few minutes to realize that Fujiwara apparently _could_. There Keisuke was, talking away about the race and their cars and their opponents, and Fujiwara’s eyes were already closed.

_Ch’. Already asleep._ How the hell did he do it? Ignore all the pressure, the strange room, Keisuke himself, and just go to sleep? Not that Keisuke didn’t have the answer - the same way Fujiwara could go to a hotel room, put on a blindfold, get fucked boneless by Ryousuke, and come back to Project D the next night like nothing had happened.

Keisuke lay down, and closed his eyes as well. It didn’t work. After a minute, he grimaced in exasperation, then propped himself back up on an elbow to glower at Fujiwara. It wasn’t Fujiwara’s fault he couldn’t sleep, but Fujiwara was asleep, and relaxed, and beautiful – no, wait, scratch that, he hadn’t thought that.

He had, though. And Fujiwara was. 

Keisuke screwed his eyes shut again. It didn't help. Sitting here like this, not-looking at a sleeping Fujiwara, it was too easy for his mind to go places, places that he usually knew to avoid. If he'd said something different, back in the spring --

If. If, if, if. He'd done this before, with aniki. He didn't need to start it with Fujiwara, too.

Too late.

Keisuke opened his eyes, leaned down, and brushed a gentle kiss on Fujiwara’s sleeping mouth. Then he lay back down, and rolled over so his back was to Fujiwara. Fujiwara would never know, and it wasn’t like it was the first time Keisuke made do with a memory.

*

The race wasn’t a complete success: Keisuke won against God-foot by the skin of his teeth, and definitely without setting any course records. And Fujiwara won against God-arm only because Fujiwara wore down the guy so much that he had to stop and stagger off into the bushes and throw up, while Fujiwara limped the 86 past with a broken suspension. No course records there either.

Aniki didn’t seem angry, though, even if the 86 needed to be fixed. Maybe he wanted the chance for a breather before finishing off Ibaraki. Maybe he had something else planned. This _was_ Ryousuke, after all. Fujiwara, on the other hand, actually looked away as Matsumoto hooked up the tow chain on the van, as if he was upset. Keisuke didn’t blame him: every racer hated the sick feeling you got in the pit of your stomach when you looked at your wrecked car and knew you’d been the one to fuck her up.

That was why he cleared his throat and said, “Hey. Need a ride?”

Fujiwara blinked at him. “It’s not necessary. I can ride in one of the vans.”

“Didn’t say it was _necessary_ , just making the offer. Che.” Keisuke’s turn to pretend he was looking at something that wasn’t Fujiwara, trying to keep things casual. He doubted he was fooling anyone who might be watching, but Fujiwara had to get home _somehow_ , and why not with him?

There was a pause. Then Fujiwara said, “Thank you very much, Keisuke-san.”

Fujiwara didn't say anything for the first twenty minutes or so. Keisuke didn't think about it: the part of his attention that wasn't focused on driving in caravan was pacing through the most recent race and trying to figure out what he’d done right and what he should’ve done better (because once they got home, Ryousuke was probably going to want to talk about it). There was a little part of his mind running in little circles of _stole a kiss, but he’s aniki’s lover, but the kiss, but aniki, but the kiss_ that he was sternly ignoring. It didn't matter. Nobody else even knew.

“Keisuke-san? Why did you kiss me?”

… _shit_. “You were asleep,” Keisuke said, and was horrified at how weak he sounded.

“You kissed me because I was asleep?”

“No! I mean –“ Shit. What did he mean? “You’re aniki’s…” What? 'Lover' still sounded too romantic, 'sex partner' too abstract, and Ryousuke would come and _find_ a way to strangle Keisuke if he said 'fuckbuddy' to Fujiwara of all people. “You’re aniki’s,” Keisuke said more firmly. “I know that.”

“Aren’t you as well?”

“…you can’t just come out and _say_ things like that,” Keisuke protested, but it sounded even weaker than ‘you were asleep’ had.

“He said that you were the only other person he would consider in his bed,” Fujiwara said. A glance across proved that he was bright red, but his voice stayed steady, if quiet. “I wouldn’t ask this for amusement, Keisuke-san.”

“Aniki and I –“ How was he supposed to explain this? Half the time, he couldn't even explain it to himself, and that was before Fujiwara came along to confuse things. “He's my most important person. There was one time when –“ _He fucked me. He sucked me off - has he ever done that for you?_ Dammit, no, this was Fujiwara. He respected Fujiwara too much to turn this kind of confession into a contest. “Aniki and I had sex. Once.”

"Only once?"

Keisuke had the childish impulse to say _so far!_ , but it was easier this time to bite it back. Ryousuke had told Fujiwara about them. Ryousuke had admitted that he remembered, that he still wanted Keisuke. Keisuke didn't need to be jealous, except that he was, and wasn't even sure who of. "It doesn't matter," he said instead. "I'm his brother. You're not. He has you. That's enough."

There was a long silence, with nothing but the hum of his tires on the pavement and the purr of the engine. Finally Fujiwara said, “You kissed me because I’m with Ryousuke-san.”

“No,” Keisuke said without thinking. 

“You want me?”

Oh, shit. Shit fuck damn no. Friend! Rival! Not lover! Fujiwara wasn't supposed to know! How the hell had he gotten so perceptive? “Don’t ask questions that you don’t want the answers to.” It came out strangled and unconvincing. "You have aniki. We can't - it can't -" It couldn't work like that, was what he meant to say, but the words wouldn't come, maybe because he wasn't even sure what kind of 'that' he meant. Him and Fujiwara? Him and aniki? 

Fujiwara was mercifully quiet after that. After a few minutes, he asked, “Did you always want an FD?”

“Yes!” Keisuke let out a silent breath of relief. This kind of conversation with Fujiwara, he could handle. “I learned on aniki’s FC, but I tried the S13 and S15, and the GT-R.”

“I thought you hated the GT-R.” Keisuke could hear the smile in Fujiwara’s voice.

“It’s the born rival of rotary engines,” Keisuke said loftily, then added, “It’s a good car, even if it doesn’t drift without modifications. I haven’t met anyone who drives it who lives up to their car.”

Fujiwara murmured something that was probably agreement. Out of the corner of his eyes, Keisuke could see he was still smiling.

*

It used to be, before Fujiwara, that Ryousuke met his partners about once a month. It had nothing to do with Keisuke's preferences, even if he was the one arranging it, no matter what a few would-be partners of Ryousuke's had implied. Once a month was simply the best compromise Keisuke had found, between making sure aniki did let off steam enough that he never got, well, _obviously_ restless, and making sure that it didn’t interfere with the Red Suns. If it came to a choice between aniki getting laid and the Red Suns, the Red Suns won. Aniki himself wouldn’t have made any other choice.

After Fujiwara…aniki didn’t _ask_ that Keisuke could remember. Neither did Fujiwara. But somehow the meetings crept closer together. Instead of every four weeks, it was closer to every two. And the last meeting had been ten days before the race against God-arm and God-foot. Which meant that Keisuke didn’t have even the full week that the mechanics predicted it would take to fix the 86 before he saw Fujiwara again: he had only a few days. Even better, because the 86 wasn’t fixed yet, Keisuke himself had to pick up Fujiwara – discreetly – and bring him to the hotel.

Fujiwara wasn’t dressed seductively at all. It looked like normal clothes for him: blue shirt, not particularly tight; jeans, also not particularly tight; sneakers. His hair was damp as if he’d just showered. Keisuke didn’t say anything as Fujiwara got into the FD, and Fujiwara remained just as silent.

It should have been…well, not exactly _reassuring_ , but at least nothing to piss Keisuke off. Fujiwara had dropped the subject of Keisuke and Ryousuke, _he_ wasn’t pushing it, Keisuke hadn't mentioned it to Ryousuke himself, what was there to worry about? Except that Keisuke had admitted that he’d fucked his brother, that he wanted to do it again, and that he’d kinda like to fuck Fujiwara himself, too – and here was Fujiwara just sitting here like nothing had happened! Occasionally Keisuke caught Fujiwara looking at him, but it was a thoughtful look, not a wary one. Mostly it made Keisuke think of the way Fujiwara studied a new course before he went gliding down it like he’d always driven it. 

Now that he noticed, it was the same kind of look Fujiwara had been giving him for the past few weeks - probably since aniki admitted he and Keisuke had slept together. Wasn’t that a fucking reassuring thought.

When they reached the hotel, Keisuke parked somewhere discreet (or as discreet as you could get with a bright yellow car), went in, and checked in. Fujiwara had vanished once they got out of the car, which proved he did know about discretion, even if he’d asked those questions. Keisuke left one card key for Ryousuke, then took the other one.

He should have just found Fujiwara in the lobby, then handed over the card key and gone home again (and probably jerked off imagining aniki and Fujiwara). This was a real hotel, not a love hotel: it wasn’t like he had to be there to let either of them in.

He should’ve left Fujiwara there, same as he did the first time. Maybe.

Fuck that. Keisuke was sick of feeling all vulnerable and unsure. He went to the elevators and punched the button and didn’t even look at Fujiwara when he got on the same elevator, although he could feel Fujiwara looking at him. They went up to the right floor, and Keisuke opened the door, then stepped back.

Fujiwara nodded politely, and went in.

Keisuke followed him.

Fujiwara didn’t seem to notice at first. He toed off his shoes just inside the door, then walked farther into the room as casually as if he didn’t even notice Keisuke was there, stripping off his shirt over his head.

Keisuke heard the door click closed behind him. He didn’t care. He was staring. Fujiwara was – Fujiwara would – Keisuke had thought _he_ was the one challenging _Fujiwara_ , and then Fujiwara had to go raise the stakes like this. Again.

Ryousuke would be here in five minutes. Less. Maybe it was just that Fujiwara was that eager for Ryousuke, that he couldn't even wait to strip until Keisuke had left the room, and it wasn't anything to do with Keisuke at all. Then Fujiwara pulled a piece of fabric out of his jeans pocket. It took Keisuke a second to recognize it as the blindfold. Fujiwara turned to look at him, and offered him the blindfold.

That - that wasn't anything to do with aniki. That was about Keisuke, and like fuck he was going to just walk away from the challenge. A few quick steps, and he took the blindfold from Fujiwara.

_Ryousuke will be here,_ , he reminded himself. It didn't help. He was already uncomfortably hard in his jeans, and thinking about aniki coming in just made him harder.

Keisuke forced himself to breathe normally. Same as he had the first time he’d brought Fujiwara to a room for his brother, he moved behind Fujiwara and brought up the narrow fabric against Fujiwara’s eyes.

The fabric knotted easily, like it was used to it. Keisuke let his hands fall to Fujiwara's shoulders, not sure what was supposed to come next. It was like he was wearing the blindfold instead of Fujiwara. What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

As the thought crossed his mind, he heard the soft beep and click, as someone ran a card key and the lock disengaged. Ryousuke.

Ryousuke stepped in and closed the door behind him, his footsteps nearly silent on the plush carpet. He didn't look surprised at Keisuke being there, or even angry. Then again, Keisuke knew his brother's battle aura. It didn't scare him any more. The stern 'older brother' look, though, that did send a reflexive chill down his spine – and it was that look being leveled at him. Keisuke swallowed, and shifted his weight to step away from Fujiwara.

Fujiwara grabbed his wrist before he could step away. He waited, as if he could see the incredulous look Keisuke was giving him, and then extended his other hand to Ryousuke. "I'm sorry I didn't have the chance to ask you first," he said

Ryousuke blinked, and like that, the stern-older-brother look was gone. He looked from Fujiwara to Keisuke and back again, as if he wasn't quite sure this was real and not a joke. He came over to them, and took Fujiwara's hand. "Are you certain?" He was looking at Keisuke, not Fujiwara.

Keisuke swallowed hard. He wasn't. He'd come up here on impulse, half desire, half jealousy, and now things had accelerated way beyond his control. But he'd never turned down a challenge from Fujiwara yet, much less from his brother. He nodded firmly.

One last look up at Keisuke – blank, this time, or it might as well have been because Keisuke wasn't sure what the hell that expression meant – then Ryousuke leaned in and kissed Fujiwara. Keisuke watched his brother's eyes flutter closed, and heard Fujiwara make a soft noise into the kiss, and tried to remember to breathe as Fujiwara's grip on his hand loosened to nothing. The blind corner was only getting blinder, no matter how much his pulse sped up and how hard he was starting to get in his jeans.

Then Ryousuke stepped back, and turned Fujiwara around to face Keisuke. Fujiwara reached out - how could he find Keisuke so easily with a _blindfold_ on? Was Keisuke breathing really loudly or something? - and pulled Keisuke in for a kiss.

It wasn't anything like kissing him when he was asleep. Fujiwara awake wasn't sweet or passive, despite the blindfold. He kissed Keisuke like he meant it, like he wanted to be kissing him. Like maybe he'd been thinking about Keisuke, too. Keisuke kissed him back, and didn't care if it felt like he was skidding out. He might not know where the hell they were going, but he wasn't going to be left behind.


	7. Jumping The Hairpin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryousuke discovers the solution to his problems might be as simple as putting on his own blindfold...or it might not.

This was a joke.

This was a challenge. 

By whom, Ryousuke wasn't certain. When he'd first seen Keisuke standing behind Fujiwara, he'd thought that Keisuke had somehow persuaded Fujiwara to allow this. But Keisuke had been the one who flinched, and Fujiwara the one who stopped him, and taken responsibility.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He wasn't supposed to be allowed. Then again, Fujiwara always had specialized in breaking through Ryousuke's expectations.

He leaned in to kiss Fujiwara. Fujiwara relaxed into the kiss, mouth opening under Ryousuke's as if Keisuke weren't standing behind him, as if _he_ hadn't brought Keisuke here. As if this was more than a joke or a challenge.

This was Fujiwara Takumi, Ryousuke reminded himself, in the part of his brain that could still think. If Fujiwara could put on a blindfold and lie down for Ryousuke - and step forward when Ryousuke chose, instead, to lie down for him - then he could trust Fujiwara enough for this, too. He stepped back and gently turned Fujiwara around to face Keisuke.

Fujiwara reached out, as if he didn't have the blindfold on at all, and pulled Keisuke in for a kiss. Keisuke stiffened for a moment, as if he hadn't expected this, then he settled his hands on Fujiwara's hips and kissed him back. Not familiarly, the way Ryousuke had expected - whatever Fujiwara planned, Keisuke hadn't known about it either. He'd caught Keisuke off guard as much as Ryousuke.

Fujiwara was the one who broke the kiss. "Clothes, please."

Keisuke looked from Fujiwara to Ryousuke, eyebrows raised. "Which one of us?"

Fujiwara glanced back over his shoulder, as if he could see Ryousuke even with the blindfold. For a moment, Ryousuke hesitated on the brink of intense temptation: not the sex, but removing the blindfold. It wasn't necessary, was it? Fujiwara knew who he was about to fuck. Fujiwara had always known. 

He caught his hand, already half-raised, and lowered it again. Fujiwara knew, yes, but to look in Fujiwara's eyes and see mere desire, or blind adoration, or something colder...he didn't know himself what he expected, or what he wanted. It wasn't safe. Instead, despite Keisuke's wry grin, Ryousuke answered Keisuke's question with, "All of us. But we'll start with you."

Undressing Keisuke proved more awkward than sexy. Every button undone reminded Ryousuke of that night he'd tried so hard to forget. Fortunately, Fujiwara did have that blindfold on: he missed the edges of Keisuke's shirt more than once, trying to pull it up and free, until Keisuke laughed out loud and complained, "You're _tickling_ me, Fujiwara."

"Stop _moving_ then," Fujiwara said, smiling back.

Ryousuke smiled, too, and reached out for Fujiwara's hands. "Like this," he said, and guided Fujiwara's touch up under Keisuke's shirt.

Keisuke's breath caught, and his head fell back.

Fujiwara learned quickly. Ryousuke knew that. But he hadn't expected how it would feel to see Fujiwara learning Keisuke's body, nuzzling Keisuke's neck and lingering when Keisuke whimpered, pinching Keisuke's nipples in echo of Ryousuke's fingers. Fujiwara raised his head and looked toward Ryousuke every so often, as if forgetting the blindfold, but he touched Keisuke like a man enjoying the sensations as much as Keisuke was. It wasn't some sort of permission, not something he'd chosen to do for Ryousuke. He wanted Keisuke as much as Ryousuke did.

Keisuke moaned when their hands reached his cock. "Fujiwara --"

"Yes, Keisuke-san?"

"Stop," Keisuke said, and Fujiwara let go immediately. Ryousuke did as well. Keisuke opened his eyes - Ryousuke hadn't even noticed him closing them - and looked at Ryousuke. "If you keep going, I'm gonna come."

"Then come," Ryousuke said, keeping his voice even with an effort. He could picture that, far more easily than he'd let himself remember. "It's not a competition." 

"It _is_ a competition, aniki," Keisuke said. "Just not a _race_. And anyway, I don't want to come when you're still all the way dressed."

As if Keisuke had given him a signal, Fujiwara turned to Ryousuke, hands going to the right place with the ease of familiarity. Ryousuke's breath caught. Fujiwara undoing his buttons, Keisuke's hands on his belt buckle, the fleeting pressure of their hands against his skin… With Keisuke, he had been able to laugh, and relax into the natural silliness of unfamiliarity. He couldn't dismiss this so easily.

Once Ryousuke's clothing was tossed aside, he found himself the focus of a different kind of competition. Keisuke's mouth on his skin seemed bent on proving that Keisuke hadn't forgotten a single moment of their one night together, while Fujiwara's hands stroked soothingly over his chest, his legs, with all the knowledge of months together. Neither of them said anything, which meant Ryousuke had nothing to distract himself from sensation, how hard they'd gotten him how quickly. Fujiwara's familiar touch contrasted with Keisuke's more tentative exploration - no wonder Keisuke had told them to stop.

Keisuke's hand finally settled on Ryousuke's cock, and stroked him, slowly, tauntingly. Fujiwara reached out and stopped Keisuke. "Not a competition, Keisuke-san."

Keisuke looked up past Ryousuke, frowning - then reached out, as if to remove the blindfold. He stopped himself before he touched the fabric. "Dammit. Aniki -"

Ryousuke opened his mouth, then closed it. He couldn't speak. He could barely think. Behind him, Fujiwara said quietly, "Keisuke."

Keisuke let go of Ryousuke entirely (Ryosuke bit his lip to ask, illogically, for Keisuke to put his hand back right now). His eyes were fixed over Ryousuke's shoulder. "You trust us, aniki?"

"Yes," Ryousuke said. That didn't require thought.

He heard movement behind him. At first he thought it was only Fujiwara undressing at last - until Fujiwara's hand settled on his shoulder, blindfold dangling from his fingers down over Ryosuke's bare skin. "Do you trust us, Ryousuke-san?" Fujiwara repeated.

Ryousuke swallowed. _Yes._ Yes, he wanted this, no matter how reckless, no matter how stupid, no matter how un-ready he might be. The word stuck in his throat. Instead, he reached up, took the blindfold, and tied it on.

Fujiwara said in his ear, "You can still say no."

"Yes," Ryousuke said, the word coming out more easily this time.

He'd always known that the blindfold didn't really provide anonymity - that as Keisuke said, it only allowed both people to pretend it wasn't Ryousuke there. What he hadn't known was the shift in focus the blindfold allowed, the intensity of letting go. Even without his eyes, he recognized Fujiwara's lazy intensity in the kiss that almost, but not quite, distracted him from the impatient, demanding hands on his cock that must belong to Keisuke. He knew, even without counting hands, that both of them guided him to the safety of the bed. And Keisuke made it easy, even without the familiar smell of his skin, by bringing Ryousuke's hand to his erection and saying quietly, "Please."

Ryousuke shifted on the bed, and took Keisuke's cock in his mouth.

Hands, on his cock and ass - Fujiwara. Too gentle for what he wanted. He freed his mouth, and said, "Fujiwara - fuck me."

Keisuke jumped under Ryousuke's hands, as if startled, and Fujiwara's hands on his skin skidded as well. "I thought you'd fuck me, Ryousuke-san."

"Next time," Ryousuke said firmly. "This time -" This time he was the one with the blindfold, this time he was the one giving in, allowing himself to be used as Fujiwara had, trusting his partners as Fujiwara had. "Please," he said. It came out more easily than he expected.

Ryousuke had forgotten how noisy Keisuke could be during sex - not words usually, just sounds. It almost distracted him from the delicious burn of Fujiwara's cock inside him, fucking him. Only almost. He'd been teased too long, and wanted both of them too much. 

Ryousuke came first with Fujiwara's hand on his cock, pulling away from Keisuke to moan helplessly. Fujiwara finished close after, each thrust of his cock sending pleasant aftershocks against over-sensitive nerves. He pulled out of Ryousuke carefully, and the bed shifted as if he got off it.

"Aniki," Keisuke growled.

Ryousuke tried to sit up, but a hand on his leg stopped him. "It's all right," Fujiwara said, and Ryousuke could hear the smile in his voice. "It's my turn."

"Your -- holy shit, _Fujiwara_!"

Ryousuke reached up to undo the blindfold - he did not have Fujiwara's restraint. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light, and looked over on the bed. Keisuke sprawled back, one arm over his face, the other hand fisted on the bedspread, as Fujiware slowly, lovingly sucked his cock.

"Aniki…"

Ryousuke leaned down, and swallowed the sounds of Keisuke's orgasm in his own mouth.

For a long moment, the only sound was heavy breathing. Then Ryousuke looked away from Keisuke (so beautiful, better than memory) to Fujiwara. Fujiwara didn't flinch or hesitate as he sat up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He looked as calm as ever, despite his flushed face and the marks on his skin. _We did that - Keisuke and I._

He forced himself to swing his legs off the bed, and stand up. "I'll get the washcloth."

"No pretending this time, aniki," Keisuke said. He hadn't moved his arm away from his face, but he shifted as if to look in Ryousuke's direction.

"No. Clearly not." The blindfold lay on the floor in a crumpled heap. Ryousuke didn't remember throwing it there, only the frustration with not being able to _see_. How had Fujiwara stood it? How had any of them stood it? "This will only become more complicated."

"Of course it will," Fujiwara said, as if he weren't completely naked and half-sprawled on the bed himself. "But Keisuke and I trust you."

Keisuke laughed. "I think maybe we trust you more, Fujiwara," he said.

The bed squeaked, as if Fujiwara had shifted his weight. "I have no idea where we're going --"

"Neither do I," Ryousuke admitted, stepping back out of the bathroom with the wet washcloth. Keisuke removed his arm, raising his eyebrows, and Ryousuke grimaced. "Keisuke is right. No more pretending. I would like to learn together." He dropped the warm cloth on Fujiwara's leg, then clasped his hands together, bowing. "Please give me your guidance."

Fujiwara frowned up at him, then sighed. "Turn around, please." After a moment of silence, Fujiwara's touch gentle on Ryousuke's skin through the damp of the washcloth, he added, "Next time, I'd prefer to receive. You're not the only one who likes it."

"Not before a race," Keisuke said, with mock surprise. 

"Of course not," Fujiwara and Ryousuke said together. Fujiwara laughed, and kissed Ryousuke's hip.

It wouldn't be easy. The problems that had led to their set-up hadn't gone away. But perhaps with three people trying...well. They could conquer more than just Project.D.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to sylverice to giving half of this a quick beta, encouraging me to think of Keisuke more, and to all of y'all for sticking with me! Hope you enjoyed it!

**Author's Note:**

> Updates should be once a week. Thank you for reading!


End file.
